Tights! And Jeeps!

6:44 p.m.

Summer's nearly over, yes? A few days ago, when we had an afternoon in the 40's and the next day in the 50's, I remembered that summer will end. It always does. I like pulling out sweaters. I like hot tea. I like leaves and clouds and wind. I don't like turning off the shower in the morning and feeling the air instantly cool the water droplets clinging to my hair. I don't like goosebumps. I don't like feeling cold from the instant I get out of bed until thirty minutes after I've gotten into bed. I'm afraid my fish will die this winter. I don't know how to keep you warm enough, Ol' Drippy! I just don't know!

But! Um.

Halloween!

Mere weeks away!

And, um...Thanksgiving! A holiday of eating! And Christmas lights! And buying the cats Christmas presents! And tights and sassy boots!

(I love wearing tights.)

(Shut up.)

Also this winter I will steal away my mother's car. It's the year of car switching...arounding! Behold! Car ownerships gone wild!

See, I have the 95 Ford Escort with 158,000 miles on it. And Justin had the 1995 Jeep Cherokee with 157,000 miles on it. The Escort has some...problems. Various squealing and shrieking noises, a tendency to run on what I suspect is only three cylinders, a non-functioning defrost, general shakiness and shudderings, etc. (Hey! Anyone want to buy an Escort? Hm?) The Jeep makes noises too., and there's something strange going on with reverse, and...the knocking? Knocking. Justin worries that the whole bottom is going to fall out. I don't know how likely that is, but the Jeep, it does feel worrisome.

So Justin bought the nice shiny new car, and it's glorious and quiet and comfortable and the few times I've ridden in it I can't help blurting out at random, "Justin! It's so quiet!" "Justin! Isn't the new car nice?!" "I love the new car!" "MAN, the air conditioner REALLY WORKS, doesn't it?" "Justin, it's so clean! I love the new car!" (Justin is blessed to have such a conversationally blessed passenger/future wife, yes? Yes?) He's driving the shiny new car, and since the Jeep is in slightly better shape, I'm driving it for now. (Hey! Anyone want to buy an Escort?)

In December I'm taking over my mom's car, which is a 2001 and has 93,000 less miles than mine. She is buying a fancy new car.

Until then, it's me and the Jeep.

Me and the glorious, loud, slippery and spectacularly turquoise Jeep.

The last six years I've driven around in my little car, all smug in my small car ownership. And I'm horrified to discover that I like driving the Jeep. I DON'T KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE.

I mean, yeah, I almost threw up in my mouth the first time I bought gas. And I frequently feel as if the whole thing is going to tip over and I'm going to be crushed by turquoise metal.

But I'm really enjoying being up high. As a fairly short person, and as a fairly non-hefty short person, it's sort of SUPER AWESOMELY RAD being up high. I went through a drive through tonight (damn you, Arby's, and your chicken tenders too!) and I was as high as the window. That's NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE.

I'm also enjoying the fact that the Jeep does not run on three cylinders. It's exciting not to have to floor it to go 20 mph. It's exciting not to be terrified as I pull out onto a busy street, terrified that the car will die and I will be hit by some asshole driving, I don't know, a Jeep. The Jeep just accelerates. It accelerates quickly! It accelerates correctly!

Heart!

So even though I still believe bigger vehicles are stupid and usually unnecessary and infinitely wasteful, a tiny part of me is enjoying not feeling like I'm going to die everytime I cross an intersection.

Who said that?

Who?

Today behind cabinet at work I found a perfectly preserved mouse skeleton. And possibly yelled at my coworker not to touch it because he could get mites. "But the mites are long dead, Kara. It's fine." "But. No! You could get other kinds of mites! Bone mites. RIB MITES."

Sadly, I was serious.

Also, today, I realized that not getting my hot tea in the morning will DESTROY MY WHOLE STUPID DAY. And I'd like to point out to that whole foods clerk that when I asked about that fancy bottled tea, and he said it was "a little acrid but delicious, and we're all totally addicted to it" he should have specified that it would, in fact, be like drinking Easter egg dye, and that the pieces of fruit in it would be more like fermented snot, and that it would RUIN MY DAY EVEN MORE. And that it would make me gag a lot, before I dumped 3.95 down a bathroom sink at work.

I feel dramatic.

It's totally not too early to get ready for bed,
black sheep